


Mark Fischbach, 27 Times

by orphan_account



Category: Markiplier (YouTube RPF), Markiplier RPF
Genre: Ableism maybe, Jacksepticeye cameo, Mental Health Issues, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 21:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3664977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The medicine made him tired, so he stopped taking it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mark Fischbach, 27 Times

**Author's Note:**

> In case it wasn't clear in the title, this was inspired by La Dispute's "Edward Benz, 27 Times".

It all started after Mark finished Presentable Liberty.

The voices. The lethargy. The sadness... The... hallucinations....  
As much as he didn't want to think on it, he knew something was wrong, and that it would only get worse if he didn't see someome, so that's what he did, and... and it was... worse, than what he'd thought previously.  
The therapist told him he'd need medication, and with it he'd be able to live a normal life. So Mark took them. And they worked.

The first time it happened was during a video. Mark was playing a cute little fan game that was Vanish-esque in that it was randomly generated; he was about halfway through when he became _very_ tired out of nowhere. What felt like seconds later, he woke up to find that two hours had gone by, and his computer was asleep. He shrugged it off somewhat warily and restarted his recording.  
The second time it happened, Mark was doing a collab with Jack; they were playing an Amnesia custom story together, laughing, having a good time, when Mark began feeling tired again. He managed to stave it off for a while, though his speech was slurring and he was confused a lot- still, better than falling asleep in the middle of a conversation.  
When he woke up, he was on the floor, his headphones half-on his head with Jack screaming at him. "Mark! MARK! WHAT'S GOING ON?! ARE YOU OK??! MARK!!"  
"Jack... wh' happened..?" Mark mumbled, sitting up and readjusting his headphones.  
"Thank GOD! Mark, are you okay?! You passed out or something!"  
"Fell asleep..."  
"Jesus. Maybe you should go to bed or somethin'."  
"No, no, I'm fine. Let's... let's keep goin'."

Mark slept for twenty hours the third time it happened.  
He'd gone to bed around one the day before, and when he woke up, it was ten AM of the following day. Mark didn't know that- at least, not until he checked his phone and saw a bunch of Twitter notifications from people asking if Mark was alright since he hadn't posted videos yesterday or updated any of his social media about why he hadn't. Mark had to check the date three times from three different sources in order to make sure that what his fans (and other Youtubers) were saying was true.

His doctor told him that the drowsiness was a side effect of the medication and would most likely pass with time. He was also likely to experience muscle spasms and dry mouth.  
Mark left the doctor's office feeling conflicted; tough it out and hope that the episodes wouldn't affect his work too much, or... go off his meds? He didn't know, was unsure.

When the fourth time happened while he was driving, he made up his mind.

Day one of no medication. Mark ate his breakfast out of a Tupperware since he owned no dishes, and then drank his coffee as he started up the game he would be playing- Loved, it was called, a flash game that had been recommended to him a couple times. Supposedly it was a life-changer; though in what way, he didn't know, he was just excited to play. He started his recording, did his intro, and began the game.  
It was... odd, to say the least. The smile on his face became mild confusion, then, full confusion, and then fear mixed with anxiety within a matter of minutes. By the end of the horrendous, abusive "game" (which apparently demonstrated abusive relationships, something Mark was all too familiar with), Mark was shaking, gripping his hair, mumbling incoherently, almost crying. He ended his recording and stumbled out of his room, swearing, hitting himself on the sides of the head out of despair at his own self. "It's just a game, you're fine, just a game, just a game, you're fine, Mark's fine, fine, fine fine fine finefinefinefine..."  
Once he was calm, he shuffled back into his office so he could edit the video and upload it.

Day two off his meds. The voices came back.  
They were low, but there. Mark didn't find them hard to talk over or tune out, although sometimes if he ignored them for too long they'd get louder and angrier, so he had to take breaks. No big deal.  
Everybody was concerned for him because of the Loved video. Mark reassured them all more times than he usually would that he, after taking some time for himself, was perfectly fine. Their kind words helped some, though he had a nagging feeling that the sincerity was hollow.

Day three... or was it four? Mark was having a hard time keeping track of anything these days. Some time last night he suddenly had an overwhelming feeling of being watched- he could've sworn he saw eyes outside his windows, evilly glaring at him, _judging_ him; what did they know? Huh? Staring at him. Didn't they have anything better to do? Someone else to bother? He angrily closed his blinds and turned off all the lights. Maybe he should get something to protect himself.  
His watch began to beep. Mark didn't remember setting it... Had THEY set it? Gotten into his room while he was sleeping, a-and done something to it? So they could watch him. Mark ripped the watch off his wrist and stomped on it until it was just bits of plastic and metal underfoot. 

Five. Mark was sure it had been five days. Someone was standing behind him as he recorded the second video for today, but he was too scared to turn around. **"You can't ignore me forever, Mark."** They said in their gravely, cutting voice.  
Mark ignored the voices and kept commentating on some game he couldn't remember the name of. Why was he doing this? For his fans? They just wanted something from him. Maybe it was his fans who were watching him, keeping him up at night, their little piercing eyes stabbing into his skin at all hours. **"Why don't you leave this stupid hobby and come with me?"**

Day six. Whoever was looking back at him in the mirror wasn't Mark. They had his appearance, but they weren't _him;_ black eyes with red pupils, a mouth that cut his head almost completely in half with its smile, pale, black veins sticking out around his eyes, a redness around his mouth that he couldn't determine the cause of. **"They all hate you. They're evil, the enemy. I'm your only friend."** They said.  
"Friend?" Mark didn't recognize his own voice.  
**"Yes."**  
"Friend." Mark smiled in relief.  
An unfamiliar sound, a repeated series of raps against some hard surface. Mark looked around wildly, eyes wide and bloodshot, hands up and ready to defend himself. "What? What? Sound? Friend!"  
**"They want to take me away, Mark. You've got to help me."**  
Mark approached the mirror, stumbling over his own feet, touching the cold surface fondly. "How help? How?"  
**"Take this."**  
In his hands, Mark saw a knife. "Yes?"  
**"Don't let them take me. I'm your only friend, Mark."**  
Nodding, Mark staggered out of his bathroom and to the front door, the voices leading him on his way.

How long had it been? Mark could no longer remember. He didn't need to. Friend was here to help him, and if anyone tried to take him away, they'd end up like the body lying face-down in his living room. Their blue hoodie made him mad, so he covered it with the cushions from the sofa.  
**"Do you want me to stay with you, Mark?"**  
"Yes! Friend."  
**"Then you have to do something for me. Remember this?"**  
The knife, yes. Mark nodded. "Knife."  
**"Good. I need you to press it to your neck."**  
Readily, Mark did so, wincing at the pain and the red liquid running down to stain the shirt he hadn't changed out of in... who knows how long.  
**"Does it hurt?"**  
"Pain."  
**"Drag it."**  
Mark did, and within seconds was on the ground, unconscious.


End file.
